


Dog Ears and Sailor Skirts: InuKag Drabbles

by MustardYellowSunshine



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, OTP Sap, One-Shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-14 15:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11786286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MustardYellowSunshine/pseuds/MustardYellowSunshine
Summary: A collection of various one-shots and drabbles. Some canon, some AU, all stand-alone pieces. Expect lots of InuKag fluff and pack a toothbrush if necessary.





	1. The Things You Said

"I'm sorry."

 

"Would you quit apologizin' already?"

 

"... sorry."

 

An irritated sigh. "Just forget about it, Kagome."

 

Her fingers were interlacing and then separating in a repetitive fidget. Her posture was all contrite awkwardness.

 

 "It's just," she said, eyes cast down, "I really didn't mean it."

 

Inuyasha heaved another sigh. He didn't turn his head, his gaze seemingly fixed on the path to the village, but he watched her from the corner of his eye. "I've heard."

 

"I was grumpy about my exam results and—"

 

"I know."

 

"—I haven't been sleeping much lately because of that stupid test—trying to cram for it and all—"

 

"I _know_."

 

"—and you came to get me right after I found out I wouldn't be allowed to take a makeup test, and my grades have already gotten _so low_ , and—"

 

He made a growling sound of impatience in his throat. "Fuck, I get it. Would you drop it?" 

 

"—I just didn't realize how stressed out I was until I let it get the better of me, and I know none of this excuses the things I said, but I just want you to know it wasn't about you at all, it was my own stupid issues getting to me, and I'm really really _really_ sorry, okay?"

 

There was a pause, in which she seemed to be catching her breath. Inuyasha kept looking ahead.

 

When he continued to say nothing, she ventured meekly, "Um, so...?"

 

He snorted. "Like I said, forget it already. Your yapping is way more annoying than the shit you're apologizing for."

 

She frowned, her hands still at their anxious fidget. "I... I really don't think you're a nuisance."

 

"Uh huh."

 

"And you _have_ to know I didn't mean it when I said I wished I'd never fallen down the well."

 

His left ear flicked once.

 

"You _know_ I'm glad that I met you... right?"

 

He snorted again.

 

"... because I _am_. Really glad. You know that... right Inuyasha?"

 

"All I _know_ is that I'm hella tired of hearing about this."

 

There was a pause. Then the tiniest noise—like a strangled sigh—sounded from her throat, so small he would have missed it were he human. But he wasn't.

 

And he descended on it like a hawk on a wounded mouse.

 

"What was that, Ka-go-me?" He let his lip curl up in a sneer. "Didn't hear ya."

 

Her hands dropped to her sides, fingers stiff now, and she turned her face away. "Nothing."

 

"Hn," he said. "Interesting. 'Cuz it _sounded_ like someone being a hypocrite. Must'a imagined it."

 

Her head whipped back around as her jaw dropped open. "What?!"

 

"Yeah, you're _so sorry_ – until I'm not groveling at your feet like an apology from you is a gift from the gods. Then it's back to being my fault, huh?"

 

"I—you—how could—" She couldn't seem to find words appropriate enough to express her outrage. Her brows lowered over stormy grey eyes that blazed at him. "That's not it at all, you jerk!"

 

"Oh yeah? So you _don't_ care more about making _yourself_ feel better with these bullshit apologies? Sure seems like it to me."

 

She actually stopped walking, staring at him open-mouthed for a moment before that sound in her throat was back, only much louder and far more aggravated. "I can't believe you!"

 

"Right back at'cha, bitch."

 

Her eyes narrowed, gleaming like steel. "Just what is your problem?"

 

"Your bullshit apologies are my problem."

 

She made a pathetic human version of a growl. "I've been trying and trying to talk to you about this, and you keep snarling and blowing me off and pretending you aren't bothered when you _obviously_ are! And now _you're_ accusing _me_ of insincerity?! That's rich, Inuyasha, even for you!"

 

He'd stopped walking when she had. Now, one eyebrow arching, he very deliberately stepped into her space. "Let's get one thing straight," he growled, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. "I _ain't_ bothered. I don't give a shit about what you said, _or_ what you think. And I _especially_ don't give a rat's ass what you think about _me_. Got that?"    

 

If she was intimidated by his height or aggressive stance—he was over a head taller than her, and standing so close that she was entirely in his shadow—she didn't show it. She simply rose up onto her tip toes and, never breaking eye contact, poked an index finger into his chest. "You're a lot of things, Inuyasha, but a good liar isn't one of them." He sputtered for a moment, swatting her finger away from his chest, but she ignored him and continued, "I _know_ what I said bothered you. It would have bothered me too! It was mean, and uncalled for, and I'm sorry! _And_ ," she said loudly, cutting him off as he opened his mouth to say something scathing, "if you _really_ want to know what I think of you, I'll _tell_ you!"

 

He had inhaled sharply, gathering the air to tell her exactly where she could shove her "I knows"—but at her words, he stilled. He felt a quick and unwelcome stab of alarm.

 

He'd be better off never knowing what she really thought of him. The half-breed. The _nuisance_.

 

And yet he couldn't make himself bite out the "hell no" that was just on the tip of his tongue. As much as he didn't want to know—the things she'd said in the heat of anger like barbs digging into his brain—he also _needed_ to know.    

 

Slowly releasing the breath he'd been holding, he considered her. Though the scowl never left his face, it lost much of its hostility as he stared, expression morphing from a snarl to a clear, questioning ' _Well?_ '

 

Her grey eyes were intent on his when she took a deep breath and said, "I think you are the most stubborn, hot-tempered, rude, defensive, impulsive person I've ever met, and half the time you drive me completely crazy!"

 

His alarm was quickly souring into chagrin, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Forcing a "Keh!" past his lips, he closed his eyes and started turning his head away. A gentle but firm tug on his hair had his eyes popping back open, gaze returning to hers.

 

She surprised the hell out of him when she smiled, wide and radiant. "But you're also the most reliable person I've ever met—I know without question that I can always count on you. Once you set your mind to do something, it'll definitely get done, heaven help whatever's in the way." The hand tugging on his hair gentled, fingertips beginning to stroke through silver strands instead of pulling on them. A soft caress.

 

"And you're the bravest person I've ever met," she said, "sometimes so brave it frightens me. There's no challenge you won't take on. I admire you for that, but I also worry for you."

 

The hand stroking his hair moved, palm smoothing over and then resting flat against the center of his chest. He was more stunned by that simple touch than by any demon attack. His heart rate kicked up, and he absently wondered if she could feel it.

 

The faintest pink tinted her cheeks when she continued, "And as much as you try to pretend otherwise, you're one of the _kindest_ people I've ever met. You risk your life for others all the time. You help people even when it would be so much easier not to." Her smile turned vaguely sad. "And you're honorable. You try to do what's right even when it's hard."

 

Her other hand rose to join the first, resting against his chest in a barely-there pressure. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Truth is, you drive me crazy in a lot of ways, but..." the blush in her cheeks brightened, "mostly in the good way."

 

His heart damn near stopped, then gave a series of hard thumps. He swallowed convulsively.

 

He could tell by both her steadily-deepening blush and the way she kept nervously wetting her lips that she was embarrassed; but she never stopped looking away from him, gaze serious and steady. 

 

"I really am sorry, Inuyasha. Will you accept my apology?"

 

Faced with her raw sincerity, it was impossible to find words to respond. He struggled for a moment, tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. Then he sighed and slightly turned his head—anything to give him a reprieve from those eyes—one clawed finger rising to scratch nervously at his temple.

 

"Erm," he mumbled. "Yeah. Uh. Sure. I guess." A pause, followed by a cleared throat. He peeked at her from the corner of his eye. "If... if that's what you really think then... why'd you say that stuff back there?"

 

She surprised him again when she glanced away, her fingers beginning to fiddle with the cloth of his suikan.

 

Now she _really_ looked embarrassed. That got his full attention.

 

"Kagome?" he prompted after a long stretch of silence.

 

"Oh, well," she stammered, eyes flitting between his face and his chest, clearly no longer able to maintain her previous eye contact. "It's like I said before. I was really stressed and I just... took it out on you. That, and... I had sort of hoped..."

 

She fell silent. Her hesitance seemed telling, but he wasn't sure of what.

 

Damn him if he didn't want to find out.

 

Before he could think better of it, he gripped her hands—still resting against his chest—with both of his, and dropped his head so that his eyes were more level with hers. "You hoped...?"

 

Her eyes darted to his, then down to where his hands held hers, then slowly drifted back up.

 

"I, um..." Her whole face was reddening, but at least she could look at him again. "When you came to my time, I had hoped that... you were there to see me. You know, just because. So when you said you'd come to bring me back for shard hunting, I..."

 

She didn't finish, but she didn't need to. The cogs had started turning and he could figure out the rest.

 

She'd gotten so mad because she was disappointed. She'd missed him.

 

She'd wanted to see him.

 

Him. The half-breed.

 

He didn't realize he was grinning until her lips formed a pouting moue and she grumbled, "Jeez, Inuyasha, it's not that big of a deal."

 

His grin widened until a fang poked out over his lip. "You know," he said, stepping in even closer, "you keep getting redder and you might burst into flame."

 

"Inuyasha!"

 

She tried to pull her hands away, but he held on. Tugged her a little closer, until her forearms rested against his chest too.

 

"So you missed me, huh?"

 

Her pout was part glower by now. She pressed her lips together tight, refusing to speak.

 

He snickered. "Too late to take it back now."

 

"Watch me, dog-boy."

 

Slowly, gauging her reaction, he dropped his head until his forehead pressed against hers. Her hair, soft and sweet-smelling, floated against one of his cheeks. He heard her heart beating rapidly. Her fingers clutched his suikan, and her hands, held so tightly in his, were warm.   

 

He closed his eyes. Savored.  

 

"Kagome?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"... you drive me crazy, too."     

 


	2. Strange Behavior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for KeiChanz, in response to [this prompt she posted over on Tumblr](http://keichanz.tumblr.com/post/164232803277/can-someone-please).
> 
> Hope you enjoy! ^_~

"Sango?"

 

"Hm?"

 

"Do you think Inuyasha and Kagome are acting... ah, strange?"

 

At the monk's question, the demon slayer glanced up from her inspection of Hiraikotsu—where it lay across her lap as she mended its ripped leather strap—and craned her head towards the pair in question. Inuyasha and Kagome stood several yards away, leaning side-by-side against the exterior wall of Kaede's hut. Inuyasha had his arms resting in his sleeves, one foot propped against the wall behind him as though readying to push away any moment. Such a typical pose for the half-demon: seemingly relaxed and yet always prepared to spring into action. Next to him, Kagome played with a strand of her hair as she spoke, lips upturned in an impish smile. Sango could hear the murmur of their voices—the distinctly amiable, carefree quality to their tones—but couldn't make out the words.

 

After watching them a moment longer, she turned back to Miroku and raised an eyebrow. "They seem perfectly fine to me."

 

He raised his eyebrows at her in return, and nodded towards the other couple. "But look at them, Sango."

 

She glanced back at the pair. They still just stood there, relaxed and chatting. "Yes?"

 

"They aren't fighting."

 

Sango blinked, processing that—then lifted her hand to cover her mouth. No need to encourage the monk with a smile. "Ah, I see."

 

"They haven't fought at all in the past four days."

 

"I hadn't noticed, but now that you mention it..."

 

"You don't think that's strange?"

 

"It is a bit... abnormal, I suppose."

 

"'Abnormal' is not the word," Miroku muttered, watching as Kagome lightly swatted the back of her hand against Inuyasha's stomach, which only made the hanyō smirk. "'Ominous' comes to mind... 'mystifying,' 'disquieting'... but 'abnormal' is the least of it."

 

This time Sango didn't bother to hide her smile. "You may be shooting sparrows with a cannon. Perhaps they're simply in a good mood?"

 

As they watched, Inuyasha pushed away from the wall and made as if to walk away—but after taking only one step, he hesitated. Then, pitching himself forward as though he'd tripped, he put all his weight on the ball of one foot, and in the same instant, his arms began to windmill through the air as he wobbled back and forth on his toes.

 

And if that wasn't bizarre enough, he then deliberately looked over his shoulder at Kagome, who was watching him with raised brows, mouth agape in surprise.

 

Neither Sango nor Miroku could see Inuyasha's expression from their angle, but they could see Kagome's: her eyebrows lowered into an almost-frown, her eyes narrowed, her lips closed and then pursed slightly. Both of her hands settled against her hips, and she said, "Inu _yasha_!" in a tone rife with irritation. 

 

The effect was ruined, however, when she immediately snorted and released a deep-bellied guffaw.

 

Sango couldn't be totally sure, but she thought she heard an answering bark of laughter from the still-wobbling hanyō.

 

As one, Miroku and Sango turned towards each other.

 

"What was that," Miroku said, "about shooting sparrows with a cannon?"

 

"Mystifying indeed, sir monk."            

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, the group set out from Kaede's village in search of information on Naraku's whereabouts. Grim as their purpose was, the atmosphere among them—particularly between a certain couple—was far from sober.

 

Kagome erupted in what was probably her tenth round of giggles in the last few hours. She was walking beside Inuyasha, pushing her bicycle along by its handlebars—taking a break from the hard peddling she'd done all morning—and occasionally reaching out to flick the hanyō's arm with her fingers. Inuyasha appeared to be ignoring her, which only prompted more arm-flicks from the girl.

 

Some distance behind them, Miroku leaned in closer to Sango and said in an undertone, "Do you think something happened between them while they were in Kagome's homeland?"

 

Sango watched with interest as Inuyasha's hand crept up behind Kagome, grasped a fistful of the dark hair swinging down her back, and then tugged on it like the pull-cord on a bell. Quick as a flash, his hand was back inside his sleeve, just before the girl's head whipped towards him and a muffled, "Hey!" rang through the air.

 

Sango leaned closer to Miroku and replied, "Something like what?"

 

The monk chuckled, his breath fanning against Sango's cheek. She fought hard not to shiver. "Ah, lovely Sango, I think you know the 'something' – what else would have them flirting like love struck children?"

 

"Flirting? They're acting more like squabbling siblings, if you ask me."

 

Miroku opened his mouth to retort, but a high-pitched voice cut in with, "They _are_ acting strange. Kagome's been blushing all day, and Inuyasha's been even more idiotic than normal." An orange puff of hair and a pair of bright emerald eyes appeared over Miroku's furthest shoulder. Sango shot a surprised glance Shippō's way, then caught Miroku's rather gloating expression as he nodded with exaggerated solemnity.

 

"You see? Even Shippō sees how amorously—"

 

In a well-practiced maneuver, Sango jutted her elbow into Miroku's ribs.

 

"—I mean," the monk coughed, "how _abnormally_ those two have been behaving."

 

"Hm," mumbled the demon slayer, "I'm not convinced."

 

Just then, they heard a rather squeaking "eep!" and Kagome suddenly lurched forward, her feet stumbling and scuffing against the ground once, twice, before she managed to catch herself against her bike. Inuyasha's hand had darted out to grab her, but stopped when she regained her balance. Clawed fingers hovered for a moment above her shoulder until it was obvious the girl had her footing again—then the hand returned to Inuyasha's side as though it had never moved. Kagome missed it entirely.

 

But she did _not_ miss the impossibly wide grin that stretched across Inuyasha's face as she slowly turned her head to look at him. The girl's shoulders had stiffened, and though Sango could only see her face in profile, it was obvious that it had turned a flaming red. Inuyasha, meanwhile, was grinning so broadly that both his fangs poked over his bottom lip. Even with the distance between them, Sango could _feel_ the masculine smugness permeating the air. 

 

Inuyasha's chin lifted in an altogether haughty gesture, his mouth opening on an inhale—only for Kagome to point an index finger right under his nose and sternly command, "Don't!"

 

All three observers fully expected Inuyasha to swat her hand away and growl something rude (which would surely end with his face in the dirt and an angry schoolgirl huffing off). So they were all three astonished when, instead, he slowly reached up and flicked a finger against her forehead. "Tch," he muttered, the amusement in his voice obvious, "told you. Always a klutz. At least this time it wasn't while—"

 

His voice lowered and it was impossible to hear the rest clearly. But whatever he said, Kagome's reaction was instantaneous: her face practically glowed with color, and shooting the rest of them a glance over her shoulder, she whispered "Shhhhh!"

 

Sango didn't need to look at Miroku to know that he'd raised a sardonic eyebrow at her.

 

"Yep," Shippō said with a shake of his small head, "weird."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 "You know, I'm beginning to miss their fighting. It was at least entertaining. Now I'm forced to find other means of amusement."

 

Sango held in a snort. "It must be very challenging for you."

 

He sighed dramatically. "It is."

 

"You must admit that their recent antics have been fairly... diverting."

 

"True enough. Have I told you my latest guess on the subject?"

 

"What's that?" Sango leaned forward to stir the campfire with a stick, sending sparks flying and the flames leaping. After a moment, the logs cracked and settled, and Sango resumed her previous position, seated comfortably next to the reclining monk. Kirara hopped into her lap, and she automatically began stroking the fire cat's soft fur. Across the campfire, Inuyasha and Kagome were eating instant noodle cups and occasionally nudging each other with their arms. Shippō, having already inhaled his dinner, was dozing on Kagome's sleeping bag.

 

Miroku's voice lowered, possibly to avoid a certain hanyō overhearing. "Fighting was once their version of forepl—er, _flirting_. Now they've replaced it with _actual_... flirting." 

 

Sango narrowed her eyes at him. He returned the look with one of wide-eyed innocence.

 

"Best not let Inuyasha hear you," she mumbled, feeling her cheeks warm at his intent, amused gaze. She shifted closer to the fire, convincing herself it was the cause of her flush. "He'll take it out of your hide."

 

Miroku smiled, not unpleasantly. "He certainly would—but he'd have to tear his attention away from Kagome long enough to hear it, which does not seem very likely."

 

Sango had to concede the point; even now Inuyasha was leaning toward Kagome to whisper something in her ear, which made Kagome smother a laugh against her hand. The girl's eyes were bright, and her smile cheerful; her whole demeanor radiated happiness. Sango smiled as she watched.

 

Soon Inuyasha stood up from his crouch by the fire. "I'm gonna make another sweep of the area before we settle in for the night. Don't fall asleep and get eaten while I'm gone, y'hear?"

 

Kagome rolled her eyes, and replied, "Yeah, yeah, we'll do our best not to be yōkai dessert."

 

Inuyasha snorted, and began walking away from the fire. Just as he was passing by Kagome, she shot her foot out, swiftly laying her leg across his path. He stumbled, and for a moment it looked like he might fall—but with a well-timed and rather inhuman leap, he regained his balance. Then turned on his heel to glare at the heartily laughing girl. 

 

"Your face!" she wheezed, clutching her stomach with both arms, "Oh, it was priceless!"

 

For the second time that day, Inuyasha's reaction took them all by surprise. Rather than a snarl, his lips formed a tiny smirk as he straightened and stalked back over to Kagome. "You oughta know, you've made it often enough. Bet I can get that face outta you again right now."

 

And with that—before the girl had even finished laughing—Inuyasha swooped down, slid one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, lifted her up against his chest, turned to Sango and Miroku, and said with just the faintest hint of red across his nose, "Be back in a bit."

 

Then he bolted away into the night, Kagome's laughter fading into the distance.

 

Stunned, Sango stared after them. "I... well that... that was... abnormal..."

 

Miroku was laughing too hard to speak just then.

 

Later, after they'd packed away the remains of their dinner and started preparing for bed—Inuyasha and Kagome still absent—Sango felt a gentle tug on her hair. Startled, she glanced over her shoulder at Miroku, standing close to her with his fingers curled around the ends of her hair, lightly stroking.

 

"So, Sango," he said, "what do you say to our own... flirting?"

 

A slap echoed through the night, loud enough to wake the sleeping kitsune, who rubbed at his bleary eyes; saw the monk cradling his cheek and the demon slayer huffing away; then he lay back down with a mumbled, "Idiot."  

 

 

* * *

 

 

Inuyasha had no sooner set Kagome on her feet than he had her pressed against a tree, body crowding close to hers. Without hesitation, she twined her arms around his shoulders and tilted her face up to his. A pleased growl rumbled from his chest before he dropped his head and kissed her. She hummed into the kiss, rocking up onto her tiptoes and pressing into him. He responded by pushing her even harder against the tree and nudging her lips open for a better, deeper taste.

 

After awhile, they pulled away to catch their breath; or at least Kagome tried to catch hers. Inuyasha immediately began running his lips down her neck, fangs nipping and scraping her skin. She clutched at his shoulders and gasped, dropping her head back against the tree.

 

"You know," she said, "they're onto us."

 

Inuyasha grunted, and pulled away long enough to say, "Nah," before returning to his previous attentions.

 

"But they are. Did you see them watching us earlier? They totally know."

 

His lips skimmed along her collar bones. "All they know is that you're clumsy. Nothing new there."

 

"Inu... yasha," she complained, then sighed as his hands trailed along her sides, coming to rest on her hips. His thumbs rubbed circles against her skin, dipping beneath the waistband of her skirt. She reached up and stroked one of his ears, her other hand trailing down his chest to rest against his heart. He leaned his head into the touch, and settled his weight more comfortably against her.

 

"Forget about them. The more important question is how you intend to make things up to me."

 

"Make things up?"

 

"For trying to dump me on my ass earlier."

 

She laughed, then gasped when he gave a harder nip to her neck. "Oh, I don't know... I'd say you earned it for all the teasing you've been giving me lately."

 

"Well _I'd_ say you earned all that teasing with that maneuver you pulled in your time... hope you've learned to be more careful on the shrine stairs."

 

She groaned. "Are you _ever_ going to forget about that?"

 

He grinned, his mouth returning to hers for another kiss. "Nope. Especially not with what happened afterwards..."

 

Her cheeks bloomed a deep pink, but she grinned back at him. "It _was_ very thoughtful of you to check me for injury."

 

"And you _still_ tried to dump me on my ass. Ungrateful."

 

"Hm." She placed a kiss on the underside of his jaw. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you."

 

 "Good," he growled, and pressed his lips against hers.

 

 

-Fin-

 


	3. Date 'n Ditch

“Well. This is awkward.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“… What should we do?”

“Ain’t much we  _can_  do, unless you wanna go tell ‘em to stop.”

“As if!”

“Answered your own question then, didn’t ya Kagome?”

“But we can’t just sit here. It feels so… intrusive.”

“Keh! They’re the ones being gross in public. It’s their own fault if they get an audience.”

“I mean, I know they haven’t seen each other for awhile, but… it looks like they’re trying to eat each other’s faces.”

“More like eat each other’s tongues.”

“Eww!”

“Tell it to those two!”

“This is the last time I ever go anywhere with Sango and Miroku.”

“Same.”

“They’re just… so…”

“Gross?”

“… publicly affectionate.”

“Yeah, gross.”

“How’d you get roped into being here, Inuyasha?”

“I’m Miroku’s ride. You?”

“Sango and I had a movie date, but, well, the plans changed when Miroku called at the last minute.”

“Figures.”

“I really wouldn’t have minded if Sango cancelled our plans. I know how weird Miroku’s work schedule has been, and it’s hard for them to have time together… but I think she felt bad about it, and kept insisting I should come along. Kinda wish I’d said no.”

“You shoulda said ’ _fuck no_.’”

“… I won’t argue with you there.”

“This is really putting me off my food.”

“Yeah…”

“The whole restaurant is staring at us.”

“I guess it’s dinner  _and_  a show.”

“Ugh, don’t say shit like that, you’re gonna make me more nauseous than I already am.”

“Sorry.”

“… goddamn, did his hand just…?”

“Yep.”

“And did she just—”

“Looks like it.”

“… fucking  _gross_.”

“I can’t believe we haven’t been kicked out of here yet.”

“… You know what? Fuck this. Let’s go.”

“Huh? Go?”

“Let’s get out of here. Just 'cuz those two won’t get a room doesn’t mean we have to sit here and watch 'em.”

“You want us to ditch our friends?”

“Like they’d even care.”

“Well…”

“We could start a knife fight in here and they wouldn’t notice. I mean,  _look_  at them.”

“… yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

“Fucking  _finally_. Don’t forget your coat.”

“What about the tab?”

“Let them deal with it.”

“I dunno, that doesn’t seem very—”

“We’ll pay 'em back later, let’s just go before I start puking.”

“All right. Where should we go?”

“We can hit that movie you and Sango were gonna see.”

“Works for me.”

“… we could get dinner afterwards, too. If, y'know, we’re hungry or whatever.”

“… Inuyasha, are you asking me on a date?”

“Keh! No. I’m rescuing your ass from our disgusting friends.”

“Ah. I see.”

“It ain’t a date.”

“Okay.”

“It  _ain’t_.”

“I believe you.”

“…”

“…”

“Kagome?”

“Yeah?”

“… if it  _were_  a date—which it isn’t, okay?—but if it were, would you, er…”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, I’d go with you.”

“… right. Okay. That’s, um, cool.”

“Inuyasha?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you go on a date with me?”

“… Fuck yes.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written in response to a dialogue challenge over on Tumblr. The entire piece had to be written in nothing but spoken dialogue. Turned out to be a really fun exercise!


	4. Drop It

“Stop laughing.”

“I’m… not…”

“I swear, Kagome, if you don’t stop laughing at me—”

“I’m not… laughing…”

“Goddammit—”

“… I’m just… processing…”

“Can you  _process_  while you open the damn door?”

“Maaaaaaybe.”

“And quit with the laughing already.”

“I’m just  _processing_.”

“Could you _just_ hurry up and let me in?!”

“Okay, okay. Don’t get your boxers in a twist. Especially since—”

“Kagome, don’t you dare finish that—”

“—they’re all you’ve got on at the moment.”

“You’re asking for it.”

“I ask for a lot of things I don’t get, Inuyasha. Man, why did my phone battery have to die now of all times? Maybe I can find the digital camera…”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE.”

“Shhhh! You’re going to wake the neighbors.”

“And whose fault is that?! Just unlock the sliding glass door and let. Me. In.”

“How exactly did you lock yourself out on the balcony in the first place?”

“Keh!”

“And on your human night, too—you  _never_  go outside on your human night.”

“… does it matter? Just hurry up!”

“All right, all right!”

“Fucking FINALLY. It was starting to get balls cold out there.”

“Hm. I noticed.”

“Shut up.”

“Sooooo…  _why_  were you out on the balcony in nothing but your boxers again?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Oh come on, just tell me.”

“No way.”

“Come on!”

“Keh!”

“I let you in! I rescued you! The least you can do is tell me!”

“The least you can do is shut up and forget about it.”

“I’m your wife, you’re supposed to tell me things.”

“Yeah, well, didn’t your vows say something about ‘love, honor, and cherish’? How 'bout you honor my request to fucking drop it?”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Tough. I ain’t telling.”

“Oh really?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Hmm… well, I  _might_  drop it if something were to distract me… like maybe if…”

“… if?”

“Drop your boxers first and then I’ll think about dropping it.”

“… you asked for it, woman.”

“I kno—mmph!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My second attempt at the dialogue challenge.


	5. All's Fair in Love and Pet Names

“Sweetums.”

“No.”

“Honey.”

“Nuh uh.

"Honey lumpkins?”

“What the hell? No.”

“Darling.”

“Generic. And no.”

“Boobear.”

“… I think I just threw up a little.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m serious. If you ever call me ‘boobear,’ I’ll file for divorce.”

“Inuyasha!”

“Hey, you’ve been warned.”

“Listen here, dog-boy: it’s every new wife’s sacred duty to find the right pet name for her husband.”

“Which kami gave out  _that_  dispensation? Cuz I’ve got a complaint to make.”

“And I’m going to find yours, just wait and see! How about… dumpling? You like dumplings!”

“I also like being regular, don’t mean I wanna be called Shithea—”

“Stud muffin.”

“Oi, you’re not listening to me—”

“Hotcakes.”

“Kagome, stop.”

“Waffles.”

“Wha—?”

“Sugar pie.”

“Are you just hungry?”

“… I mean, a little. But if you don’t like the food theme, I can try something else. Sugar…um… daddy?”

“… I think I really  _did_  throw up that time.”

“Yeah… that was pretty bad. Okay, scratch that one. Um… Old Man?”

“How about we avoid anything that makes me sound like the creepy old uncle nobody wants to invite for the holidays?”

“Okay, fine. I’ll think of something better. Something so good it’ll knock you right out of your socks!”

“Uh huh. My socks are quivering.”

“How aboooouuuuut… Lambykins?”    

“… Kagome…”

“Puppykins?”

“ _Fuck_  no.”

“Mud Puppy.”

“Stop with the 'puppy’ shit. First I’m a grandpa, then I’m a toddler. Damn, Kagome.”

“All right, all right. So you want something more macho?”

“I  _want_  you to give it up already.”

“Just who do you think you married, huh? I’m not a quitter!”

“Ugh…”

“How about… Beefcake.”  
  
“Still hungry?”

“Hot Toddy.”

“Ain’t that a cocktail?”

“Bulldozer.”

“… a little, microscopic,  _tiny_  bit better…”

“Silver Bullet?”

“… I don’t  _hate_  it…”

“The Silver Wonder?”

“Eh…”

“Thundercat!”

“…  _cat_? Really?”

“B'doodleykitten!”

“Okay, these names are taking a  _huge_  step backwards. Let’s go back to the 'bullet’ idea…”

“My Uzzie Wuzzie.”

“… You know what? Fine. Fine. That sounds great… baby.”

“… now, Inuyasha… I  _know_  you know that I don’t like it when couples call each other 'baby’. It’s so infantilizing.”

“Oh? Hn, all right then, Old Lady.”

“Inuyasha…”

“What is it, Princess?”

“Oh my God, don’t even start—”

“Okay, Poopsie.”

“Ew ew ew!”

“Don’t like that, Jigglypuff?”

“Hey! Just because that was my favorite Pokémon in middle school, doesn’t mean—”

“Tch, who do you think you married? That’s  _still_  your favorite Pokémon.”

“… ahem. Be that as it may, it doesn’t mean I want to be called—”

“Keh! Fine then, Tootsie Roll.”

“Don’t make me file for a divorce.”

“How could you say that to me, Sugar Lips?”

“OKAY, OKAY! I surrender! Are you happy now? I surrender! No more pet names!”

“Promise, Gummy Bear?”

“Ugh! Yes, I promise!”

“Good. Glad to hear it, Sugar Lumps.”

“Watch it, Puppykins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another try at the dialogue challenge.


	6. The Boy Who Waited

Inuyasha had to wonder why the universe kept trying to teach him patience. **  
**

He’d had his first lessons in patience as a little boy, trying with a knock-kneed clumsiness to fend for himself in the wild. Crouching for long hours in the forest brush, waiting for some hapless creature—a squirrel, a opossum, or hell, even a field mouse—to scurry within swiping distance. Learning after nights of gut-knotting, writhing agony that he had to be more careful about which berries and mushrooms he ate, had to learn their scents, figure out the edible from the potentially lethal. Patience meant holding a palmful of wild berries in his shaking hand and, instead of shoveling the only food he’d found in days directly into his mouth, pausing long enough to make sure they weren’t poisonous. Patience did not come easy to a body that had not known a meal for days on end, a body that had forgotten it could be more than aching hunger.

His patience had been tested with every human encounter. Every country yokel who shouted and pointed at him like he was no better than a rabid monkey stumbling into their village; every merchant who turned up their nose and refused to trade with him; every passing soldier or farmer-turned-mercenary who took a swing at him with a club or a knife, just because they could, because he was alone and an easy mark, and any witnesses would’ve just thanked them for it, anyway.   

He’d cultivated patience while tracking down the Shikon no Tama, holding onto its promise— _you will be complete, you will be real, no longer only two halves of an impossible whole_ —whispering inside him like a prayer.

Patience was being pinned to a tree for fifty years, suspended in time like an insect in amber.

Patience was getting stuck with an idiot human girl from an incomprehensible world and  _not_  killing her on day one. It was  _still_ not killing her after she shattered the Shikon no Tama—his one hope of wholeness—and it was saving her hide even though letting her die would’ve made his life hella easier.

Patience was putting up with her moods, the fiery anger, the snappish comebacks, how her words could lacerate in ways he’d never known. Patience was holding his tongue when she cried after seeing a dead body, cried for the orphans begging on the roads, even cried when a farmer slit the throat of his lamed oxen; Inuyasha could not understand these tears, her sorrow over what was inevitable. Even his incomprehension seemed to make her sad. And then she would turn around and laugh at a cooing baby strapped to a village woman’s back, or smile at a singing bird. Patience meant digging his teeth into his tongue to keep from saying,  _If you want to survive my world, stop being kind_. 

He was patient when he felt the first stirrings of…  _something_  for this idiot human. He waited it out, held the  _something_  in his thoughts, tried to feel out its shape, and kept in check any impulse to act on it, despite the many temptations to do so. It was probably nothing, after all, just a tickle in his chest, a weird warmth beneath his skin, a lump in his throat when she turned that smile on him. He was probably just sick.  

He kept waiting it out as that  _something_  stuck around, quietly taking root, digging deeper and deeper with every soft, confusing thing she did. Sometimes she smiled at him as though he made her happy, touched his hand as though he couldn’t taint her. Sometimes fury ignited her whole body after someone insulted him, and sorrow clouded her eyes when she believed he belonged to another— _as though he actually mattered, as though she’d lost something precious_. She radiated a stony determination when she battled by his side, and sometimes she became reckless, lost her fool human head completely: jumped in front of arrows for him, faced off with powerful enemies on his behalf armed with nothing but a glare and her own indignation.

And when he lost his patience, it was nearly always on  _her_ account. Kagome was a living exercise in patience.

But it was her absence that required the most patience of him. Inuyasha found, with no small surprise (or consternation), that the girl’s absence was far more trying than her presence had ever been. As though she took all of life’s texture away with her, his world became unbearably dull—flattened, somehow, like she gave it dimension—when she left. It was then that he longed for her world, even with its incomprehensible strangeness, because at least it was a world with her in it.

What an uncomfortable shock it had been, to realize that she’d forever altered the landscape of his life, and she didn’t even know it. To realize that she’d gone from being a mere disruption of his world to being its animating force.

And now, in her longest absence, he wondered if she’d felt remotely the same things he had: if he’d pushed at the bounds of her patience, if he’d given her a lump in her throat just with his nearness, if anxious anticipation had ever licked up her spine, if he’d tangled her up inside until she couldn’t tell up from down, if he’d rearranged her world into something altogether new and exciting. He hoped so.

It was only now, in her longest absence—three years of mornings spent alone by the well, three years of nights imagining her beside him, reaching out to brush nothing but air—that he saw clearly for the first time. The promise he’d once sought— _you will be complete, you will be real, no longer only two halves of an impossible whole_ —did not lay in the Shikon’s power, but instead lay in the hands of one human girl.

And so he was patient. He waited.  


	7. Expecting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written in response to an anonymous prompt I received on Tumblr, which reads: "Inuyasha’s reaction when Kagome tells him he’s going to be a father? If you could do the whole wait and birth too that would be great but it’s up to you." I decided to try doing the whole shebang!
> 
> I'm dedicating this to my dear and lovely friend, Inunanna, as a belated birthday present. As soon as I read this prompt, I thought, "Nanna would love this!" So happy birthday, m'dear, and enjoy!

Kagome would always remember his face in that moment: the slow drift of comprehension lighting his features like the sun on leaves. It was in the cautious lift of his eyebrows, the widening of golden eyes, the way his mouth went soft with surprise. It was in his posture, how his entire body seemed to slacken all at once, his shoulders dropping, arms falling from their crossed position to hang limply at his sides.

 

And when he spoke, his voice was quieter than she'd ever heard it. "You... Kagome, you're..."

 

She nodded, smiling so wide her cheeks hurt.

 

Something in his face changed. He took a step closer, lifted his hand to graze the pads of his fingers across her stomach.

 

"You..." He paused, swallowed. "I mean _we're_..."

 

She reached for his hand with both of hers, holding it there against her body. "Yes." Her smile, impossibly, widened. "It's really happening, Inuyasha."

 

And as he swept her off her feet, into his arms, she realized that what she'd seen in his face was joy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In those first weeks, she felt a subtle change in her body. There was no external difference yet—Inuyasha couldn't see any physical changes at all, and he seemed to make a point of looking for them. But even if she didn't yet look it, Kagome _felt_ different. Fuller, somehow. Anchored in her own body, like a soft weight rested in the very pit of her stomach, grounding her to herself. She tried to find the words to explain this to Inuyasha, but the closest she ever got was to say, "It's like my body is... _more_."

 

He'd only blinked at her, nonplussed. She sighed, cupped his cheek in her hand, and wished that some things were easier to say.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It didn't take long for Inuyasha to start treating her like porcelain, like a _raku ware_ bowl that would break with the slightest jostle. She'd fetch water from the river and he'd growl, "Don't carry the water buckets, they're too heavy!" She'd offer to help a village woman plant her garden, and he'd glare at her as if she'd suggested diving off a cliff.

 

He also took to following her everywhere. "What if a demon attacks?" he replied when she'd gently questioned him about it, "Or what if you fall and hurt yourself?" At first she didn't mind it much, and even found it cute. _So_ _like a puppy_ , she'd thought with a smile as he trailed behind her. She couldn’t deny enjoying the extra attention. But it became much less cute when he made it clear that he intended to follow her _everywhere_ —even when she needed to relieve herself. One early morning she'd gotten up to do just that, and as soon as she reached the doorway of their hut, she heard the telltale rustle of clothing; she turned around to find him standing next to their futon, pulling on his _hakama_ to follow her out. She arched an eyebrow at him, lips pursed, and all he'd done was scowl at her, as if to say, "Well, what do you expect?"

 

She lost her temper with him several times, but it didn't seem to faze him in the slightest. "I've gotta protect you," he'd say with a flippant shrug. "It'd be easier if you'd shut up and let me do it."

 

She might have truly lost her patience with him—nearly did on a few occasions—if his flippancy had actually convinced her. But she heard the real concern underpinning the words, read the flickering worry in his eyes—the same fear that echoed in the deepest parts of herself. The fear of losing something unspeakably precious, something unknown and yet deeply cherished. And she remembered his _other_ behavior, too: the tenderness in even his most casual touches, the way his hands seemed to linger, his hushed tone when he murmured her name in the night, how her nearness seemed to give him ease. 

 

One day Miroku came to visit, and watched Inuyasha hound Kagome as she moved around the hut preparing tea. Miroku's tone was laughing and good-natured when he said, "That's a fine dog guardian you have there, Kagome."

 

Kagome glanced over her shoulder at her husband's reddening, scowling face. Before Inuyasha could bite out the insult he was clearly chewing on, she turned back to Miroku, handed him his cup of tea, and said, "He's the best." Grinning, she patted her stomach and added, "No one could be safer than us with Inuyasha around."

 

Miroku smiled and tipped his head in agreement. A moment later, she felt the warmth of Inuyasha's palm settle against the nape of her neck, his fingers brushing a caress across her skin. A thank you.

 

She could let him be overprotective, if it helped put his fears to rest.

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the second month, she was constantly exhausted. It was a tiredness like she'd never experienced before, bone-deep and insatiable. No amount of sleep seemed to help. She napped on and off all day, and slept like the dead through most of the night—that is until her bladder began working double time, forcing her to wake every few hours to relieve it. And if it wasn’t her bladder waking her in the morning, it was the nausea that would continue to plague her for half the day. Her fatigue grew even worse after that. Dark circles like bruised plumbs stained the skin under eyes.

 

Inuyasha was almost frantic in his attempts to help. He brought her to Kaede every couple of days to make sure she wasn't ill, despite the old healer's repeated assurances that fatigue and nausea were perfectly normal this early in pregnancy. He pestered Sango with questions about _her_ pregnancies, despite her answers confirming what Kaede had already told him. Eventually he forbade Kagome to do any physical labor and took over nearly every chore she normally did. Whenever she offered to help, or tried to do something herself, he'd shake his head tersely and tell her to lie down—and she was so tired that she usually did so without argument.

 

At night he held her against his chest, ran his fingers through her hair, and whispered in his gruff way, "Sleep, Kagome. You're safe. I'll take care of everything. Just sleep." She would nod and burrow her face into his body, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Why are you crying?”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“... Kagome.”

 

“I’m _not_.”

 

“You’re sniffling.”

 

“It’s just allergies!”

 

“I can smell your tears.”

 

She scrubbed at her face with the back of her arm. “I told you, allergies.”

 

She had her back to him. Inuyasha gripped her by the shoulders and turned her around, but she dropped her chin to hide the tears still streaking down her face.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

His voice was so gentle. When had he learned such gentleness? Kagome could only shake her head and press her lips together against the urge to sob.

 

Brows drawn low in a frown, ears flicking in agitation, Inuyasha drew her closer. “Are you sick?”

 

She shook her head.

 

“Did you hurt yourself?”

 

“I-I’m not h-hurt,” she mumbled, wiping at her cheeks.

 

“Is it…?”

 

“The baby’s fine.”

 

His expression morphed into an odd mixture of relief and bewilderment, eyebrows half-raised but still contracted in the middle, pinching the skin between his eyes. “Then what the hell’s wrong?” Pausing for a moment, he added, “Do I gotta kill something?”

 

A half-laugh, half-sob burst out of her, followed by quick shuddering breaths. Kagome clenched her hands in the fabric of Inuyasha’s _suikan_ and forced herself to inhale slowly. “N-no… everything’s fine. Really.”

 

His mouth slanted into a grimace, and he stared at her pointedly.

 

She breathed out a stuttering sigh. “It’s… it’s stupid, and not anything you can help with.”

 

His whole frame seemed to twitch before his shoulders straightened, and he uttered a low, barely-there growl, offended by the mere intimation that he couldn’t help her. One of his hands reached up, palm cradling her jaw, and tilted her face up to his. “Try me,” he said, eyes serious and focused.

 

She couldn’t help it—another sob burst out. It took a few more moments before she could catch her breath enough to say, “It’s j-just that… I miss my mom.”

 

His mouth opened on reflex, but then he paused, eyes widening a fraction. His mouth closed, then opened, then shut again. A silent moment passed. Then his hand gingerly squeezed her shoulder, clearly at a loss. 

 

Feeling distinctly foolish as more tears coursed down her cheeks, dripping from her chin, she stammered, “I w-wish Mama was h-here… I d-don’t know anything about m-motherhood, and I wish she c-could tell me what to expect, or give me advice… I wish she could tell me about when _she_ was p-pregnant.” Throat tight and aching, Kagome squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead against Inuyasha’s chest. “E-every time something new happens, I wish I could tell M-mama about it. I want her to be here through my pregnancy. I want her to be here when the baby is born.” She tightened her grip on Inuyasha’s _suikan,_ shoulders trembling from the effort to control her sobs. “I just… wish Mama was here.”

 

Inuyasha’s arms slipped around her, one encircling her waist, the other her shoulders; he pulled her against him until her whole body was dwarfed by his, enfolded in his, as if he could somehow physically protect her from her sadness.

 

He didn’t say anything, or even try to—he just held her there, and stroked her back as she cried for the family that would never meet her child.        

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the end of the fourth month, there was no mistaking the rounding of her stomach, its gentle slope forming just below her breasts. And by the start of the sixth month, Kagome felt the baby move for the first time.

 

It was sunny and warm that day, and Kagome had decided to make the most of it by hanging laundry over the low-lying branches of a tree (one of the few chores Inuyasha didn’t object to her doing). The smell of the freshly-washed fabric, its cool dampness against her hands, and the pleasant heat of the sun on her face and arms all combined to cast a dreamy haze over the afternoon. Kagome nearly rocked up onto her tiptoes to lean up into the sun’s warmth.

 

Smiling, she reached forward to drape a blanket over the tree branch when she felt a fierce jerk just under her navel.

 

“Ah!” she cried out, dropping the blanket and wrapping her arms around her stomach.

 

 Underneath her hands, she felt another lurching motion, like a sharp muscle spasm.

 

She gasped, heart fluttering in her chest, and rubbed her hands across her stomach. Hoping to feel more movement, hoping it wasn’t her imagination.

 

There, another one! The baby was kicking! Or maybe elbowing?

 

“Kagome!”

 

She registered Inuyasha’s alarmed voice a moment before the hanyō himself appeared, dropping down next to her from an airborne leap. His eyes raked over her from head to toe, and his voice was low and urgent when he asked, “Are you okay?! I heard you yell.”

         

Now accustomed to his abrupt appearances—her husband was never very far from her these days—her only response was to grab his hand and press it flat against her stomach.

 

“Kagome, what the—?”

 

“Just wait!”

 

A beat passed, and then another spasming sensation. Not painful, but a distinct jabbing motion around the navel.

 

Inuyasha’s face went blank for a moment. “Is that…?”

 

She grinned up at him, guiding his hand along her belly. “Baby’s feisty today.”

 

They felt another burst of movement, and Inuyasha let out a barking laugh, lips tugging up at the corners. His ears stood to attention atop his head, his whole being focusing on the activity beneath his hand. He swiftly laid his free hand against her stomach, too. “Did you feel that? This kid is gonna be strong!”

 

“It’s definitely _your_ child,” Kagome teased, feeling a rising lightness and warmth in her chest, expanding with every second. She felt so light she thought she might start levitating any moment. “The very first time I feel it move, and the baby’s kicking like it’s trying to pick a fight.”

 

Inuyasha’s smile was so full, it made her breath catch. When was the last time she’d seen him smile like that?

 

“All right, runt,” he chuckled under his breath, claw tips faintly tickling her as his hands trailed over her belly, “don’t be too rough in there. Your Mama’s got a temper, y’know.”

 

She had the perfect retort to that, but a sudden lump in her throat kept her from saying it. It hit her that what she was feeling was her daughter or son. A _person_ , whose real living presence was moving against their hands, proof of a new _someone_ in the world. Someone she longed to meet. Someone she and Inuyasha had formed between them, brought forth from their love like a sapling from soil.

 

Inuyasha looked up from her stomach, eyes connecting with hers. She wished, yet again, that some things were easier to say. All she could do was cover Inuyasha’s hands in hers and squeeze, blinking against the prickling at the back of her eyes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As her pregnancy progressed, and her stomach continued swelling (reminding her more and more of a balloon attached to a helium tank), she experienced new and less-than-enjoyable symptoms. Her lower back and abdomen started to ache, her ankles and hands to swell. She always had heartburn, and some form of digestive trouble—if it wasn’t constipation, it was the _other_ problem. Stretch marks striated the sides of her stomach and her breasts; but worse than that was the appearance of a thick dark line that ran vertically from her belly button to her crotch. If that wasn’t enough, small patches of darker skin began developing along her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

 

She consulted Kaede about this development, who confirmed that although not all women experienced it, it was not an abnormal part of pregnancy; Kaede then very kindly rubbed Kagome’s back when she burst into tears.

 

Kagome had never felt uglier in her entire life. And she’d been covered head-to-foot in demon guts more than once.

 

But at night, when they were alone in their hut, Inuyasha would press his lips against each of her stretch marks, across the dark patches on her face. He would part the edges of her sleeping _yukata_ and trace a finger down that dark line stretching from her belly button, his touch slow and intent, as though he was on a pilgrimage to a holy place. His hands would map her body, every lump and dimple, every discoloration and spider vein, all while kissing her so feverishly her body would catch his burn.

 

It was hard to feel ugly those nights, because Inuyasha made her feel more _known_ than she’d ever been. 

 

 

* * *

 

  

“What do you want to name the baby?”

 

Light and shadow dappled Inuyasha’s face; above them, a breeze ruffled the foliage of Goshinboku, and Inuyasha’s nose twitched, no doubt reading the scents carried on the wind. His eyes were closed, his arms stretched behind him, pillowing his head.

 

He didn’t even open his eyes when he replied, “Haven’t thought about it.”

 

Kagome reached over, idly stroked one of his ears. “So think about it now.”

 

Content silence fell about them. The day was hot and muggy, but the breeze helped cool the sweat on their skin. Birds called in the distance, and nearby a cicada began to chirp. Inuyasha lay stretched on his back along the ground, his head next to Kagome’s thigh; she sat with her back propped against Goshinboku’s trunk, hands folded across the top of her stomach.       

 

“... what do _you_ want to name it?” he mumbled after a few minutes, cracking open an eye to give her a sidelong glance.

 

She thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m not sure, really. I’ve thought of a few names, but I’m not sure how much I like them. That’s why I asked you.”

 

Inuyasha yawned and stretched, then slowly lifted his torso up until he sat in a cross-legged position next to her. He watched her, eyes intent on her face. She smiled, tilting her head in question, but in answer he only reached over to grasp a tendril of her hair between his fingers.

 

“Well,” he said, thumb and forefinger rubbing her captured hair, “if… if you don’t have your mind set on a name, then maybe…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I was just thinkin’,” he said, “if it’s a girl, we could… name her after your mother.”

 

She went entirely still, and he panicked, dropping her hair and holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. “It was just a thought, is all! We can name it whatever you want, okay? It’s not like I care anyway. Don’t go gettin’ all—”

 

She started pushing away from the tree trunk, and he went from panicked to scolding quicker than a blink. He rose up onto his knees, reaching to push her back down by the shoulders. “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Don’t try to stand up by your—oof!”

 

She fell against his chest—the best she could do while hampered by her huge belly—kneeling between his knees and hugging him around his waist, her stomach cushioned between them. He tensed at the initial impact, but pretty quickly wrapped his arms around her in return.

 

Her voice was choked and distinctly watery-sounding when she asked, “And if the baby’s a boy…?”

 

His large hand cradled the back of her head. His own voice was thick when he answered, “Always thought ‘Sōta’ was a good name.” She laugh-sobbed against his chest. “But,” he added, “guess we could name him after your batty old gramps, too.”

 

  She nodded, squeezing his waist.

 

The hand on her head gently tugged at her hair, and she followed its cue, pulling back enough to see Inuyasha’s face. His eyes were somehow both gentle and blazing all at once. “Whatever you want, Kagome,” he rasped, “okay?”

 

She nodded again, cupping his face in both her hands. “I like your plan. Mai for a girl, Sōta for a boy.”

 

He brushed his fingers along her cheeks.

 

“Whatever you want, Kagome.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

As the months passed, Kagome started to befriend one of the young village women, Chōko, who was also pregnant. It was nice to talk to someone who was experiencing everything she was at the same time that she was. The mothers and grandmothers in the village were well-intentioned, but they tended to give Kagome more advice than she really wanted—usually by way of horrifying anecdotes.

 

“When I was that far along, I started vomiting blood!”

 

“Mark my words, you’ll be living in the outhouse.”

 

“My breasts have never gone back to normal. You’d do well to rub yours with this poultice every night.”

 

“You think it’s bad now? Wait until the baby is born—you’ll forget what it means to sleep.”

 

Sango was better than most at keeping this impulse in check, but even _she_ would slip into it, being the battle-hardened mother of three that she was. Once, when Kagome complained that the smell of vomit was becoming too normal, Sango arched an eyebrow and said (with a tone unsettlingly similar to a certain monk’s), “Motherhood will make you an expert on every body function imaginable.” 

 

Kagome was more careful about which complaints she voiced after that.

 

But Chōko was a safe harbor of sympathy in the middle of that maternal halestorm, and Kagome was grateful for it. The two of them would often commiserate together about their latest symptoms, chatting by the fire as they sewed or chopped vegetables—the perfect camaraderie of pregnancy _without_ the terrifying stories.

 

“You should let your husband pamper you while you can,” Chōko had once said with an impish grin after her husband, Jirō, insisted she sit down while he finished washing their dinner dishes. Chōko’s brown eyes gleamed downright wickedly when she added, “It’s good for them to get it out of their systems.” Kagome had only laughed, thinking _that_ ship had long ago sailed, and probably circumnavigated the entire globe by now.  

 

One day, Kagome was sitting by the hearthfire, working on her latest sewing project—an infant _kimono_ —when Kaede came with the news.

 

“Chōko went into labor late last night,” Kaede said, her mouth a flat, grim line, “but neither she nor the child survived the birth.” 

 

Kagome’s sewing dropped to the floor.

 

“The midwife did all she could, but…” Kaede rubbed a hand over her aged face, sighing deeply. “There was nothing to be done. Childbirth is always risky.”

 

It was some time after Kaede left that Inuyasha entered the hut, eyes hooded and face tight. He took one look at Kagome, huddled by the hearth with her arms wrapped around her stomach, and said, “You’ve already heard, haven’t you?”

 

Kagome nodded numbly.

 

He walked over, dropped to a crouch next to her. His hand came to rest on top of hers where it clutched her stomach, but he otherwise did nothing.

 

They sat there, staring into the fire for a long time.

 

“Inuyasha?” Kagome mumbled after what seemed like years of silence.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“If… if that happens to me…”

 

His fingers tightened around her hand. “It won’t.”

 

“But if it _does_ —”

 

His grip on her hand became nearly painful. “It. Won’t.”

 

“Kaede said that… that childbirth is always risky, and—”

 

“Nothing is going to happen to you. Ever.”

 

“—we s-should… we should at least think about what to do if…”

 

He yanked. She lost her balance, falling sideways, and suddenly found herself sitting in his lap, his arms around her shoulders and his face buried in her hair.

 

“Nothing,” he growled, low and rough, “ _nothing_ is going to happen to you, hear me? Nothing. I won’t let it.”

 

“But—”

 

“I _won’t_!” His breath was harsh against her neck. “I won’t fucking let it happen that way!”

 

 “... Okay,” she whispered softly, tonelessly. She leaned into him, clutched his sleeve with her fingers. “Okay,” she said again, needing to say it as much as he needed to hear it. Needing to believe it was true.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In her ninth month, they sat together under the Goshinboku, looking up at the star-studded sky.

 

“I wonder who’s in there,” Kagome murmured, stroking her stomach.

 

“Keh!” Inuyasha poked a finger at her protruding belly button, earning an annoyed slap from his wife. “We’ll find out soon.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Then one day there was pain. So much pain. Pain like every part of her insides was trying to claw its way outside.

 

There was the darkened, thatched roof of their hut above her head, all she could see as she screamed and groaned and grunted out her agony.

 

There were voices, many women’s voices, Kaede’s and Sango’s and the midwife’s and other women from the village. There was Inuyasha’s voice as he cursed at the women trying to keep him out of the hut, and Miroku’s calm reasoning voice in reply. She heard a loud “Keh!”, the flutter of the reed mat, scandalized huffs from the village women surrounding her.

 

Then there was the cool press of Inuyasha’s hands on the side of her face, lifting her head and resting it on his leg.

 

“I’m here, Kagome,” came his voice. “You’re doing great.” She caught the silver gleam of his hair around her, the gold of his eyes above her. “You’re doing great, Kagome,” he said again, stroking her temple, “Keep it up.”

 

There was more pain, longer contractions, squeezing the very breath out of her.

 

Pain pain pain, the muddle of voices—whispered encouragements, stern commands to breathe—all clouding the air around her, suffocating her, making her want to scream even louder. Then her entire body seemed to clench around a fierce contraction of muscle, she thought she must be dying, warm liquid flooded against her thighs, dampening the bedclothes, and—

 

A single, high-pitched cry rang through the hut. Clear as a bell, it drowned out every other sound. It was all she could hear, all she wanted to hear, the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard.

 

And then a tiny, flailing bundle was pushed into her arms.

 

Her child. 

 

Tiny, screaming, red and glistening. A thin tuft of black hair above the forehead. Tiny triangular ears, curled down a little at their tips. The smallest nose she’d ever seen, wrinkling as it worked, taking in smells.

 

Then Inuyasha’s hand came into her field of vision. Slowly, cautiously, the pad of his thumb stroked along the baby’s head. His fingers lingered in the air above the baby’s ears, as if too awed to touch them.

 

Eyes watering, Kagome tilted her head back, glancing up at her husband, the father of her child, just in time for his lips to crash against her forehead and a tear—not her own—to drip onto her face.

 

And after—when everyone had cleared out of the hut, and Sango and Miroku had hugged her, and Kaede had congratulated them—Inuyasha gathered her in his arms, their child gathered in hers; she touched her forehead to her child’s, and whispered, “Welcome home.”


	8. Homesick

“Inuyasha… why don’t you come eat supper with us tonight? The twins would love it.”

He shook his head. “No thanks.”

Sango watched him a moment longer—sitting in his usual cross-legged, cross-armed position, back resting against the wood of the Bone Eater’s Well—then sighed. “How long do you plan to stay out here?”

He shrugged, not looking at her.

Something in Sango’s chest constricted, ached. He’d done this last year, too — the first anniversary of that day.

Sighing again, she closed the short space between them and kneeled down beside him. She clasped her hands in her lap; her gaze remained there when she whispered, “I miss her too.”

He said nothing, though his right ear twitched towards her. Dusk gathered about them, purpling the sky as the sun disappeared below the horizon. They sat together, leaning against the well, for a long time as darkness fell.

 

* * *

 

Later, when Sango had returned home to her husband and children, Inuyasha still sat against the well.

He tipped his head back to look up at the sky. Overcast. Only pale glimpses of stars between drifts of cloud.

_I miss her too_.

He knew she did. So did Miroku, and Shippō, and Kaede. They  _all_  missed her.

But what Inuyasha felt—and could never explain, never tried to—was more than just  _missing_. More than wishing for a lost friend to return. Because Kagome…

Kagome was his home.

So he sat there, as close as he could get to Kagome now, and struggled to fight off the sense of  _homelessness_ that overwhelmed him.

He sat there, homesick, until dawn.  


	9. Breathtaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the one-shots in this collection have been pretty innocent, so I want to put a warning at the top of this one: this piece is very NSFW. I felt like writing some emotionally-charged smut, so uh... that's all this is. Here's your official warning: mature, explicit content ahead.

He was breathtaking.

Skin sweat-slick and flushed. Eyes heavy-lidded and burning, reflecting the firelight that dimly flickered in the room. She knew those eyes would soon haze over in pleasure, soon close against a rush of sensation. And as much as Kagome loved watching him lose himself like that—become his most vulnerable, his most open—she loved even more these moments before, when his expression was so wholly absorbed, every shred of his focus on her and the movement of their bodies together. It was like every part of him was at her fingertips in that moment, laid bare.

Like he allowed himself to be completely _known_.

"Inuyasha," she whispered as she swiveled her hips over him, taking him in more deeply, eliciting a long groan from the man beneath her. He gripped her waist, fingers hot and digging into her skin. She braced her hands against his panting torso and began grinding her hips in a slow, undulating rhythm, determined to make him feel every motion insider her. The resulting friction had her moaning and arching her back for a better angle.

She felt the strong flex of his thighs beneath her butt just before a growl vibrated under her hands, and he began thrusting up, his hips rising off the bed to meet the downward push of hers. The force of their combined movements drove him even more deeply into her, and sent sharp bolts of pleasure ricocheting along her spine, through every limb. She cried out for him, and watched his face contort into a look of sheer, ardent need. 

"Kago—" his voice cut off in a grunt, a deep-throated groan. His hands slid from her waist to her ass, cupping its curve and pressing her harder against him, encouraging her to increase her pace. She obliged, lifting herself with her knees and sliding back down with more force. He cursed and threw his head back, chest heaving. His silver hair splayed around his head, strands of it clinging to his shoulders and arms. A bead of sweat rolled down his throat, past his collar bones, along the vale of his chest; she couldn't help leaning forward to lick it off his skin, savoring the pungent taste of salt on her tongue.

His eyes sparked and heated. His grip on her tightened, claw tips pricking against her skin, and as he surged up to kiss her, she could only think of how beautiful he was, how breathtaking.

She'd always thought him beautiful, always known he was passionate and fierce; but she never thought she'd get to see him like _this_. So utterly unguarded, every pretense and bluff stripped away. She'd seen him show passion before—in battle against his enemies, or when pursuing something he truly wanted—but it was always a controlled passion, always kept on a tight rein. Inuyasha, she'd learned, was always guarded, constantly suppressing some part of himself, even if it wasn't intentional. That was simply the man she'd come to love: his life had taught him caution.

But not when he was like this, with her. Not when he was kissing her like her breath was his air, not when he was buried inside her, scorching her from the inside out.

_This_ was Inuyasha, all of him at once, raw and real and robbing her of breath.

His lips left hers to drift down her throat, one hand gripping her hair at the back of her head and tugging, forcing her head back to accommodate his seeking mouth. She gasped and panted, murmured his name as he nipped and sucked at her skin. His other hand rose to her breast, and she couldn't contain her low keening whimper when his palm kneaded the rounded flesh, rubbing against her stiff nipple. Heat blossomed in her belly, roared through her veins, and she still craved more of his burn.

She still straddled his thighs, but his knees were raised now, wedging her between his legs and his torso, limiting her range of motion. Undeterred, she bucked her hips in a series of short, quick thrusts, and squeezed her muscles around the hard throbbing length of him. She heard him choke on a breath—the exhalation hot against her neck—heard his rasping snarl, felt the reflexive jolt of his hips against her... and then he was lifting her up, away from his body.

Before she could even cry out in protest, he had her turned around and positioned on her hands and knees. She felt his hands clamp down tight on her hips, felt his thighs press against the back of hers, and then that hard length settled against her, rubbing and teasing, forcing a moan past her lips. She turned her head, looked over her shoulder to see him kneeling there behind her. Eyes bright as torchlight, hair tumbling around him like moon-silk, chest glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, arms flexing as he convulsively tightened his grip on her hips, tugging her back against him. That blazing gaze held hers, searing into her as he pushed his cock back into the wet welcoming heat of her body.    

He went even deeper from this new angle, and she was hard pressed to keep from coming right then. He set a rapid pace, and she did her best to meet him thrust for thrust. She locked her arms so they could bear most of her weight, freeing her lower body to move in rhythm with him. With each thrust, electric waves of pleasure sizzled along her nerve-endings, and she wasn't even aware of her keening cries until he growled, "Fuck, Kagome, you're gonna make me—" He gave an especially hard thrust to finish the thought, jolting her body forward, her legs and arms quivering.

The whole time she watched him, and he watched her. "Keep your eyes on me," he rasped low. "Just on me, Kagome."

As if she ever wanted to look anywhere else.  

One of his hands glided up and down her back, along the indent of her spine; the other edged around the front of her hip, down between her legs... and then his fingers were pressing into her clit, simultaneously satisfying and stoking an ache deep inside her. She cried out his name and arched back into his hand, desperate for more pressure, more friction.

And he gave it to her, fingers rubbing hard while he drove his cock into her again and again. The throbbing ache sharpened, contracted, her breath caught in her throat, and then—

The ecstatic flex and release of muscle; the breathless, suspended moment of bliss; the sense of immediate, intense relief pulsing through her body. And all she could do was say his name over and over, eyes intent on his as she came down from her climax.

His breathing was ragged too, his grunts coming faster. His pace increased, his body creating more delicious friction between them.

Then he too reached his bliss, warm liquid spilling inside her as he groaned out some version of her name. His eyes closed, his lips parted, head tilting back as he gloried in the feeling of completion.

And he was so breathtakingly beautiful.

With trembling arms, Kagome pushed herself up until she was kneeling upright—their bodies still connected—with her back pressed against his chest. His arms immediately circled her waist, holding her tightly. She turned her face towards his, her forehead brushing against his chin, and caressed his cheek with her hand.

_You're beautiful_ , she wanted to say. _No one can compare to you._

But in that moment, the words felt hollow, brittle. So instead she leaned against him, molded her body to his, and kissed him until she was breathless.


	10. All Dogs Play Fetch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written in response to an anonymous prompt I received on Tumblr, which reads: "Inukag, with Inuyasha being turned into a dog and Kagome reacting." It's likely not what the sender was expecting, but hopefully it's enjoyable anyway. ;)

“Inuyasha, could you please stop licking yourself?”

 

The _kishu ken’_ s snout lifted from its inspection of its private parts. It was a large, handsome dog, with a brilliant solid white coat, broad face, long snout capped with a black nose—matched by gleaming black eyes—and upright triangular ears like little radars turning at every sound. The dog’s head craned towards the school girl sitting next to him, dark eyes glaring. “Even a dog’s gotta clean, Kagome.”

 

“Fine, but can it wait until later? I’m right here.”

 

Inuyasha heaved a sigh, but shifted his posture to properly cover his ‘unmentionables,’ leaning his weight on one back leg while the other lifted up to scratch almost casually at his neck and chin. “Don’t see what you’re getting all prissy about.”

 

Kagome huffed, ruffling the ends of her dark bangs in the process. “‘Prissy’? Try ‘totally freaked’. I don’t understand how you can be so casual about this.”  

 

“I don’t understand how you’re so worried about it.”

 

“How can you _not_ be?!”

 

Inuyasha uttered a soft whuff. “Relax, Kagome. We’ll handle it.”

 

Her eyebrows rose, the expression on her face echoing her incredulous tone when she replied, “‘Handle it’? And how do you propose we do that, huh? We have three days!”

 

The leg scratching his chin dropped back to the ground. Inuyasha stood, shook his body once to resettle his fur, and then sat down closer to Kagome. Little tufts of white fur floated in the air around them, like dandelion seeds on a breeze. Kagome sneezed.

 

“Listen,” the dog said, “Three days is more’n enough time.”

 

A humorless laugh. “Sure doesn’t seem like it from where I’m sitting.” She propped her chin against her curled fist and closed her eyes on a sigh. “I don’t even want to think about it, honestly.”

 

“We just have to come up with the right plan of attack, that’s all.”  

 

The girl sighed again, reaching out her free hand to rub her fingers through the thick fur on Inuyasha’s neck, needing the comfort it gave her. She heard the softest swishing sound as the tip of his tail wagged across the dirt floor of Kaede’s hut. “You really think so?” she asked, sounding somehow both skeptical and hopeful at once.

 

He nodded, then slid forward on his front legs until he was lying on his stomach. Her hand dropped from his neck to his back, scratching her nails along his spine. The swish-swish of his tail got a little louder as he replied, “I know so. We’ve been in tougher spots than this before, haven’t we?”

 

Reluctantly, Kagome nodded.

 

“So then quit worryin’. Three days is plenty of time to fix—”

 

The sound of metal clinking against metal approached, followed by a familiar voice calling out, “Inuyasha?” The reed mat covering the doorway shifted aside, and Miroku ducked into the hut. His eyes landed on the pair of them, sitting side-by-side on the floor, and rounded. “Inuyasha, what has happened to you?”

 

The kishu ken tilted his head. “Huh?”

 

Miroku brandished his _shakujō_ , holding it horizontally in front of him with a deeply vexed look on his face, one eyebrow raised and lips downturned. It took Kagome several long moments to realize what he was showing them: a series of prominent bite marks running along the length of the staff.       

 

“What has happened,” Miroku repeated slowly, with an obviously forced calm, “to your sense of propriety? Of respecting personal belongings, hm? What possessed you to _chew_ on my _shakujō_?”   

 

Kagome was surprised by a giggle that she had to stifle with her hand.

 

The dog in question simply lifted his shoulders in a canine shrug. “It was there. I was bored.”

 

Miroku’s eyelid visibly twitched. “You were bored.”

 

“That’s what I just said, ain’t it?”

 

A jangling sound was Inuyasha’s only warning before the flat side of Miroku’s _shakujō_ landed squarely on his head. An obviously restrained hit, meant as a reprimand rather than a real strike.    

 

Which clearly didn’t matter much to Inuyasha. “The fuck, Miroku?!” he growled as he leapt to his paws, fur bristling.

 

“How many times must we discuss this, Inuyasha?” The monk held up two fingers. “You are permitted to chew on two things: the leftover bones from dinner, and your own person. _My shakujō_ is strictly off limits.” He sighed loudly, rolling his eyes heavenward. “If you _must_ chew on something larger, pick an object with more durability, like Hiraikotsu—”

 

“I don’t think so, monk,” came Sango’s wry voice just before the woman herself appeared in the doorway, the reed mat falling back into place behind her. She narrowed her almond eyes at Miroku. “What’s this about encouraging Inuyasha to _chew_ on my weapon?”  

 

The monk’s tone shifted from exasperated to wheedling quicker than a blink. “My lovely Sango, I was merely pointing out that while my staff may be easily damaged, your Hiraikotsu is made from yōkai bone and can easily withstand”—his glance slid to their dog companion, a note of dryness entering his words—“Inuyasha’s oral fixation.”

 

Sango opened her mouth, but Inuyasha’s aggravated growl cut her off. “I don’t have an _oral fixation_ , you asshole.”

 

“Oh? Care to explain that to the teeth marks you left on my _shakujō_?”

 

“Miroku is right, Inuyasha,” Sango said with a quiet sigh, stepping further into the hut to kneel opposite Kagome. “This can’t keep happening. We’ve already had to replace Kagome’s bow twice.”

 

Inuyasha snorted, but the look he shot the schoolgirl was distinctly guilt-ridden, and his ears drooped a fraction.

 

Kagome reached out to scratch his neck again. “Water under the bridge, guys. I’ll bring back some dog bones from my time, okay? They make ones for big chewers.”

 

“I’m _not_ a—”

 

“And anyway,” Kagome continued forcefully, “We can talk about this later. Inuyasha and I were in the middle of strategizing.”

 

Miroku’s eyebrows raised, and he said with genuine curiosity, “Oh?” He took a seat beside Sango.

 

Some of Kagome’s lightheartedness seemed to deflate, her shoulders drooping. “Yeah. Y’see, I have three makeup tests that I have to take at school three days from now. If I don’t pass them, I’ll…” She swallowed, shoulders drooping even lower. “I’ll have to repeat the grade.”

 

 The dog, monk, and demon slayer all blinked at her, uncomprehending.

 

She sighed. “It means that all the work I’ve done in the last year? Won’t count for anything. I’ll have to do it all again.”

Another moment of silence, and then the information finally seemed to sink in. Sango gasped, “But that’s terrible!”

 

Miroku frowned. “Surely not the _entire_ year, Kagome?”

 

Kagome nodded before dropping her chin back onto her hand. “Yep. The _entire_ year. So it’s really _really_ important that I pass these tests. That’s what Inuyasha and I were talking about when you came in.”  

 

Inuyasha leaned his weight against Kagome’s side, a gesture of comfort. She reached around his shoulders to scratch at his chest in gratitude. He started panting in contentment.

 

There was a pause, and then Miroku cleared his throat. “Forgive me, but… how exactly was _Inuyasha_ planning to help you with this?”

 

Sango groaned, elbowing Miroku in the ribs.

 

The happy panting ceased immediately, and black eyes glared at the monk. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

 

Miroku held up his hands. “I mean no offense, my canine friend. But I cannot help wondering if you are in the, er, position to help Kagome with her studies.”

 

“And why the hell wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Can you even read?”

 

The dog blinked. “‘Course not. What’s that got to do with anything?”

 

“Er…”

 

“I’m a _dog_ , Miroku, not an idiot. I can still help.”

 

“But how—”

 

Inuyasha snorted. “We’ll figure it out.” He leaned more heavily against the girl in question and lifted his chin slightly. “I can _always_ help Kagome.”  

 

Sudden warmth suffused Kagome’s belly, chasing away the shreds of panic she’d been feeling before. She wrapped her arms around Inuyasha’s furry neck in a hug and said, “I’m sure he will. Maybe he can help me with memorization exercises or something.”

 

Inuyasha shifted on his paws. “C’mon, Kagome, quit with the mushy girly stuff. We gotta get to work.”

 

“In a minute,” she said, squeezing him harder and rubbing her cheek against the fur of his shoulder.

 

He sighed.

 

From outside, in the distance, they heard a high-pitched child’s voice call, “Oh Inuyaaaaaasha. Where aaaaaare youuuuu?”

 

The dog huffed and grumbled, “Ignore him,” just as Sango cupped her hands around her mouth and called out the door, “He’s in here, Shippō!”  

 

“Come out, Inuyasha,” Shippō’s voice sing-songed as though Sango hadn’t said anything. “I’ve got something foooooor youuuuuu.”

 

Then they heard a distinctly loud squeak.

 

Inuyasha’s ears shot up on his head. His body stiffened under Kagome’s arms.

 

“Inuyasha?” Kagome said, tone concerned.

 

Another shrill squeak, and another.

 

Inuyasha stood up, breaking Kagome’s embrace, his head lowered toward the doorway, tail sticking out straight behind him.  

 

“Inuyashaaaaa!” Squeak. “Come out and plaaaaaay!” Squeak.

 

“Ball,” Inuyasha said. Then he bolted out the door, a streak of white moving quick as lightning.

 

“Wha…” Kagome blinked, watching the reed mat flap back into place.

 

They heard another squeak, and then Shippō’s delighted laughter. “Fetch, boy!”

 

Kagome sat there blinking for a moment longer, then surged to her feet. “HEY!” she shouted out the door, one fist raised, jaw clenched. “What about my tests? What about helping me study?”

 

They heard another long squeak, followed by the sound of padding feet.

 

“INUYASHA! Stop playing fetch and get back here! What happened to ‘I’ll _always_ help Kagome,’ huh? INU—”

 

* * *

 

“—yasha…”

 

“Oi, Kagome.”

 

“Inu…”

 

“Oi! Wake up!”

 

A hand jostled her shoulder. She jolted up, a sleep-garbled yell lodged in her throat.

 

“Whoa, whoa!” Inuyasha—very much a _man_ , all silver-haired and golden-eyed and broad-shouldered and handsome and _eep!_ don’t stare at him, _don’t stare Kagome_ —put his hands on her shoulders. “Calm down. It’s okay. You were dreaming.”

 

“I was,” she paused, glanced around her, “dreaming?”

 

She sat on the ground, her sleeping bag all tangled around her waist and legs. It was the dark gray of early morning. Beyond Inuyasha, the remnant of their campfire smoldered; and beyond that, the indistinct lumps that were Sango and Miroku’s sleeping forms.

 

She released a long breath. “I was dreaming,” she repeated. She glanced back at Inuyasha, who crouched in front of her, still gripping her by the shoulders.

 

“Yeah. Must’ve been some dream, with the way you were thrashing around.” He was all gruff-voiced and frowning concern, and oh no, she was doing the staring thing, wasn’t she?

 

“I uh,” she mumbled, gaze flicking around, looking anywhere but his face. And then her eye caught something. A flicker of movement above his head.

 

The twitch of a silver doggy ear.

 

“Was it a nightmare?” he asked. “What was—”

 

She coughed.

 

“...Kagome?”

 

And then giggled.

 

“Kagome, what—?”

 

And then laughed.

 

“Oi! What the fu—”

 

And then had to hold herself around the stomach, she was laughing so much.

 

“Have you lost your mind? The fuck is up with you?”

 

He shook her shoulders to get her attention. She wheezed, trying to catch her breath. Finally, wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye, she was able to stop laughing long enough to say, “Oh, Inuyasha, it’s nothing. It was just a really good dream.”


	11. Named

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 2 of InuKag Week over on Tumblr. The prompt: Reflection.

Kagome had her soul taken twice. Once by the witch Urasue, and once again by Naraku's spawn, Kanna. Twice over her very being had been shorn from her; twice she'd felt herself fade, drained out like a cracked jug.

But her soul was returned to her three times.

_You're Kagome. To me, you are only you._

How was it that such simple words, so hesitantly spoken— _his back pressed to hers, his body so solid and warm_ —could feel like her soul being given back to her? Because it did: she knew intimately the sensation of her soul returning to her body, had twice now experienced that instant of being _refilled_ , restored, her being made whole again. 

And Inuyasha's words had felt exactly like that. _"You're Kagome to me," he'd said_ _so_ _softly, voice weighting the air like heat_.

When she doubted herself, when she felt lost, her confidence chipped away by a world that saw someone else in her face, she held those words—uttered by his voice—to her chest like a shield: _You're Kagome. You are only you._ They became to her like an anchor, grounding her to herself.

Or like a mirror: her truest reflection, borne by her truest love.

 

* * *

 

Before meeting her, Inuyasha had never heard his name spoken aloud so many times. There had been a lifetime of silence, and then suddenly there was her voice.

_Inuyasha_ , she would laugh. _Inuyasha_ , she would chide under her breath. _Inuyasha_ , she would scream in fear. _Inuyasha_ , she would mumble in her sleep. And years later, it was _Inuyasha_ she would sigh into his ear, her breath hot as the fire sparking between their bodies.   

_Inuyasha, Inuyasha, Inuyasha_. Kagome spoke his name like it was a language all its own, and she its only native speaker. It had startled him the first time she'd said it—the familiarity it had evoked, the echoes of intimacy in it, as if he was _known_ —and it sometimes startled him even now. _Inuyasha_. She made it sound like a gift; like _he_ was some kind of gift.

What a joke.

And yet, it wasn't to her.

Hell, he should've known right away how it would be. It was her voice, after all, that had woken him from the 50-year enchanted sleep; her voice that had woken him from Kikyō's spell as she tried to drag him to the underworld; her voice that had called him back from the dark ledge of his yōkai half.

No one else had ever said his name with so much frequency, or so much feeling. _Yōkai_ , he'd been called. _Half-breed_. _Mongrel_. _Monster_. _It_. Always an object—of fear, or derision—never deemed worthy of a name.

But right away, Kagome named him. Even in the early days, when she insulted him, she did it in the same breath as his name. _"Inuyasha is such a jerk! Inuyasha wouldn't know 'sensitive' if it bit him on the leg! Inuyasha is so infuriating!"_

She said his name, and somehow erased every other name he'd inherited from the world. _Half-breed, monster, it_. All wiped away by her voice. She saw him, and so allowed him to see himself, too.

_Inuyasha, Inuyasha._

She named him, and so allowed him to name himself.

_Protector. Friend. Beloved._

_Inuyasha._


	12. Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to inuyashaeienni's drabble challenge over on Tumblr. The prompt asked for straight up InuKag fluff written in under 250 words. This clocked in at 244 words.

Kagome loved his hands. Everything that was Inuyasha—his raw strength, his stubborn resolve, all the wild grace of him—was evident in his hands. The long, almost slender fingers that hinted at his noble heritage; the knotted knuckles that showed his rougher nature; the calluses on his palms that spoke of his hard work, his familiarity with a sword;  the sharpened points of his claws that were somehow both deadly and beautiful, branding him as what he was: yōkai, fighter, a dangerous opponent not to be lightly crossed. His hands were every inch a weapon.

But they were also gentle.

Inuyasha smoothed his hand up the curve of her spine, claws trailing along her bare skin. His other hand combed languidly through her hair, fingers weaving through the inky strands. Draped across the length of his body, head pillowed on his shoulder, Kagome sighed in contentment and nuzzled her face against his chest. The fingers in her hair lightly tugged; obeying their prompting, she tilted her chin up to meet Inuyasha's heavy-lidded gaze.

"Mornin'," he mumbled, a soft smile curving the edges his mouth.

"Morning," she replied with a sleepy grin.

The hand in her hair moved to her face; the pads of his fingers drifted along her eyebrows, her cheekbones, her nose, then slowly caressed her lips, the touch so gentle it was almost reverent.

She gripped his wrist, held him in place, and kissed every inch of his wild, gentle hand.


	13. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another drabble thingie for [inuyashaeienni's drabble challenge](https://inuyashaeienni.tumblr.com/post/176133835556/im-up-for-a-challenge) over on Tumblr. This was inspired by [coquinespike's fantastic idea](https://coquinespike.tumblr.com/post/163886166581/haha-posts-blog-blog-blog-blog-not-again-oh-no) for a modern AU, which I've been meaning to play with for awhile. Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Word count: Exactly 250!

"I fucking did it!"

From his seat at the bar, Miroku smiled at his approaching friend.

"Finally managed it?" Miroku asked, sipping his pint of beer as Inuyasha took the stool next to him.

A triumphant grin stretched Inuyasha's mouth, face flushed with self-satisfaction. He waved his cell phone in front of him. "Got her number!"

"Congratulations. It only took you, oh... about eight months of staring and drooling."

"Can it. I got her number and that's what counts."

"Indeed. Did you get a name along with that number?"

"Kagome," Inuyasha said with a happy sigh.

"And how did you charm Kagome?"

Inuyasha's shit-eating grin never slipped when he replied, "I spilled my drink on her lap."

Miroku's eyebrows rose.

"Then I apologized a shit-ton, bought her a drink and then we... and she was just so..." Another sigh. "Fuck, she's great."

Glancing pointedly at Inuyasha's head, Miroku said in a measured tone, "I saw some of it from here. You looked nervous. Must've ruffled your hair a dozen times."   

Inuyasha cocked his head. "And?"

Lips twitching, Miroku shrugged. "And I'm just impressed that you charmed her in your current condition."

"My _condition_?"

Miroku pulled his phone from his pocket, turned on the self-facing camera, and held it out to Inuyasha.

It only took a few seconds of Inuyasha gazing at the screen for his grin to disappear and his face to turn a bright, hot red.

Miroku patted Inuyasha's shoulder consolingly. "Your ears were turned inside out, Romeo."

"FUCK!"


End file.
